Ankyra Sound not afraid of the storm that comes my way

Kjalarr had spoken his goodbyes to Scimitar; and they had been as hard as he had assumed they would be and yet somehow made easier by the news of disbandment. His adoptive father had attempted to convince him to go with him and the others. Yet, his purpose was here in the Teekon Wilds, in rekindling what had been lost between his biological family and him. They needed him — something that he'd not expected and the obligation of duty weighed heavily upon his shoulders. Still, Kjalarr was not sure why his family needed him. Charon was clearly the man of the house, which was the only reason the young Berserker could think that they would need him for yet he digressed. Kjalarr had not expected to make a diversion on his return back to the Moonspear, but he figured altering his path a bit could not hurt, and since Charon had brought it up in their initial meeting his curiosity had been piqued. 

On the slightly brighter upside he hadn't really had to come up with an explanation for the three clawed wounds upon his muzzle as he'd originally feared though if it would have come up the truth probably would have been spoken. Even if it was reckless. And stupid. While the reminder of his true mortality had been startling when the bear had left it's physical mark upon him, there was an unrest that seethed within Kjalarr's heart. An unrest that would likely not settle until he managed to finally kill a bear. However, he had more immediate things to worry about, and certainly needed more training and to recoup from his idiotic charge and nurse his wounded pride (and the flesh wounds that would surely scar). 
 
Though it's layout had not been particular in the order — in fact leaving the Ankyra Sound for last had taken him further away from the Moonspear — he had made the decision to return to where one part of his life had ended and another had begun. He'd hit Stavanger Bay on his way towards Jade Fern Grove, pausing to take in the place of his birth. It had not been entirely destroyed and there was something that still stirred within the ancient copses of trees, in the shrilling call of the crows overhead. Yet, Kjalarr had not lingered. At least, no longer than necessary. 

The ocean was not a particularly soothing sound to Kjalarr who had nearly drowned in it's depths. It was stupid luck alone that he hadn't, that it had spit him back out upon the very shores he stood, soaked to the bone, unconscious and caught up in washed up seaweed. Small and helpless. The two things that he was very far from, these days. He had promised to return swiftly, but he did not think his diversion would take him too much longer than it would have, anyway.

it was a bland day that met caiaphas as she resurfaced from the grotto, her senses assaulted by brine and bright. she squinted as if aghast by the shade of sunlight that dappled the entrance, recoiling in the manner of a spider struck by water. slowly she steeled her eyes to the upsetting brightness and eventually, emerged from the cave with the disfigured flipper of a seal in tow.

she was not expecting a visitor on her shores and when she spotted the heavily scarred male she dropped the fin in surprise. her sharp eyes scoured his countenance without shame, noting the recent injuries that afflicted him. with the deportment of a savage the she-wolf pulled towards him, her berserk expression riddled with outrage. along her back her coarse fur rose in rough pallisades, her hackles uplifted in sharp rifts along her spine. "who are you and why are you here?" the she-wolf demanded, her gums curling back into a menacing sneer.

He did not expect company, so much so that when another made their presence known he turned, expression visible with his shock and surprise. It became apparent to him that she hadn't been expecting anyone else, either, for the appendage she'd been carrying — what resembled a fish's fin to him in the brief moments he had to glimpse at it — had fallen from her grasp. Surprise had not lasted long, however, before hostility took over. His own hackles bristled, though not with malice. He did not understand the hostility he was met with. It reminded him too much of an Alpha protecting their lands...only this territory was abandoned. Had been abandoned when the sea had tossed him — barely more than a barely live ragdoll — upon it's shores. He knew because he had looked. If there had ever been a pack here (he was too young to know), there were only faint remnants.

“I don't mean any harm,” Kjalarr replied when he caught sight of the outrage upon her face. “I'm-” What? Jorunn? Tevinter? Kjalarr? Kjaunter? All of them. None of them. He didn't even know what to call himself anymore. He was Jorunn by birth, Jorunn to the wolves of the Moonspear, Tevinter by choice, and Kjalarr by the gift of the name. He was not aware it's meaning, or the power of it, what it symbolized to him and his family but that did not mean that he did not realize that it meant something more. “Kjalarr. My name is Kjalarr and I was just-” What? Saying goodbye? “hoping to close a chapter of my life, I guess. I was swept away by the sea when I was a small boy and I washed up here, on this shore.” He could not forget, did not want to forget. Yet, he sought closure, ready to face forward instead of constantly looking back.

the siren queen's hateful resolve softened when she witnessed confusion color the youth's raw muzzle. she did not let her guard down, however -- instead, she watched him with sharp and focused eyes. her hackles, risen in a spectacular display of rigid affront, were slow to subside. the svelte creature coldly listened as the pale wolf spoke, a singular ear cast forward in a dubious expression.

her gaze sharpened as he mentioned the sea and its role in his early life. "this is ankyra sound." there was a draconian sting to her voice, as the very memory of ankyra was sullied by a stranger's presence. but he seemed somehow affiliated with the brine -- caiaphas wondered if for a moment this was a wolf of the bay. "stavanger bay is that way, if that is what you are looking for."

Her gaze was sharp, he saw, though he deigned not to take direct offense to it. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting his presence and clearly he hadn't expected her's. He hadn't wanted to disturb anyone and he held no intentions of lingering long. His purpose was what he's spoken as his gaze strayed from her, taking in the light silver of the sand, the slight darkened outline of his paws all he could see against the similar color, before it lifted to the black sea, out to the horizon where it would have melded seamlessly if not for the lingering light that broke the skyline. Kjalarr could not see the brilliant colors of dusk, nor dawn. Simply, it was varying degrees of gray. Yet, dusk, dawn, and night were the times that he was most seen out, opting to sleep during the day in true nocturnal style, unless he was absolutely needed out into the light of day.

She offered a name to this place. Ankyra Sound. He tucked it away for later use. Even if he never stepped on this territory again, he had a connection to it just as much as he held a connection to Stavanger Bay. Slowly, his gaze lifted to her, keeping it respectful as she offered him a vague direction to Stavanger Bay. “I know. I was born there, and it was there I was swept away to sea,” He failed to let out that he'd willingly dove into the waves to avoid literally becoming a bear's snack but it was trivial details. He did not feel like he needed to repeat himself, he'd already told her it was here that he'd washed up. 

He also didn't let on that he'd already been there, and that he could not place why it's lack of wolves made him feel irrevocably sad. Still, he was not sure the motive for moving from the Bay, which would provide for the wolves that called it home: even if parts of it had been destroyed by the storm that tore through the Wilds. The merger he supposed he understood: a bolster of numbers but the Bay felt sacred and it wasn't as if it had been rendered inhabitable; yet he had not been there and the decision was long made. Moonspear was where his biological family was, it was where he was needed, nevertheless.

the wizened she-wolf watched the youth, her gaze scrutinizing as she tried to pry from his countenance any sort of unwittingly exposed emotion. she wasn't entirely convinced of his motives, though she sensed he posed no threat to ankyra sound. when the male disclosed he was born in the bay a stifled expression of surprise was evinced from the female's gaunt countenance. so was kevlyn she thought.

"one of ankyra's finest was stavanger-born." she intoned slowly, her voice monotone despite the sharp pang of loss that riddled her chest. "kevlyn. though he was swept to death by a wolf, not the sea." her expression turned bitter as she remembered the red woman that had flayed life from her son's hide. someday, i will return the favor, the gritty sylph promised inwardly.

“Oh?” He inquired, curiosity lighting up his expression, scarred muzzle parting, wondering who this unknown Stavanger Bay born wolf was. He'd already made the assumption that this place had once been a pack, if her words were anything for him to go off of. Kjalarr didn't truthfully know all that much about Stavanger Bay, having been too young when he'd been swept away from his biological family. He didn't know how old it had been when Charon (he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that basically a kid himself had been allowed to make a big decision like that) had decided to disband it. He didn't even know that Kevlyn was Charon's biological brother; nor that the Bay and the Sound had not necessarily gotten along. These details were shadowy unknowns to him, things that had passed long before his birth.

He did not carry the grudges of his father. Ragnar's enemies were not Kjalarr's own. This allowed him to feel the proper amount of sympathy when Caiaphas' next words broke the silence. “Oh,” The boy corrected himself, somewhat...deflated as his ears slicked back to his skull and shoulders lowered. “I'm sorry,” He offered, though there was nothing he could do. If she knew that, he assumed she'd seen it happen and thus it was not a case like his: where he was alive but thought to be deceased. “that's terrible.” He scowled at the ever darkening horizon, wondering what kind of monster would kill another wolf.

Killing might have ran in his blood, but presently he did not know much of anything about the type of wolves that he descended from.

all of the initial ire that caiaphas felt for this "intruder" had dissipated in the way the tide sucks from the sand. dispossessed of her previous fierceness she was surprised by the contrition in the youth's voice. he was sorry for her -- he didn't even know her -- and yet, there was a platitude in his tone she had not expected.

"it is past." she concluded firmly, a flick of her tail given as if warding away the memory. "but what of you? where to now?" while she couldn't pretend she was that interested in a complete stranger, her nosiness was aroused at least to the point where she wanted to know if this male had any plans of returning. in caiaphas' cruelly constructed world, there were no second chances.

She dismissed it as past, as if it were something so easy to just brush under the rug. Kjalarr felt a slight frown tug at the corners of his lips, unwilling to believe that anything like that was so easy to dismiss but out of respect and because he did not know her he stayed silent, allowing her to whisk it away. “My birth home, Stavanger Bay is gone now,” And for reason that Kjalarr could not readily explain it roused a slight ache within him. Likely because like his father before him there was a sort of connection to the ancient forest and the sea, something that transcended his understanding if only because his knowledge of what blood coursed through his veins, what he was as a viking was all but non existent. He had been too young when he'd been swept away from his family to have retained anything he might have known at that time.

“But my older brother decided they were going to move in my absence, I guess, so that's where I'm heading,” He still wasn't sure what to make or think of Charon. He felt like he ought to look up to him and trust him unquestioningly as his place as “older brother” but he couldn't. Not yet, anyway. “I want to at least try to reconcile with the family I'd lost.” Whether he would be successful at it or not was largely unknown, and Kjalarr followed up his words with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “What about you? Do you live here alone?” He couldn't help but ask.

LMAO oh god if caiaphas finds out charon is his brother....

she couldn't conceal the delight she felt to hear stavanger bay had been sundered -- for a moment a cruel flare tore across her visage before a flat expression devoured her black countenance. "a shame." she intoned, though she felt no compassion for those who had been affected by its collapse. "but at one point, my pack competed for resources with packs on the shore." she didn't think twice about exposing her past title to the youth, though it was not readily apparent if he would grasp the possession in her crudely made sentence.

his second question however, was a little too deep of an inquiry for caiaphas to answer honestly. "no," the siren lied fluidly, not even a flicker of her ear given as she artfully slipped into trickster-mode. little did she know that in a few days' time, all of that would change and she would no longer be the sole survivor on ankyra's desolate strand. "ankyra sound lives." her gaze fixed on the youth shrewdly. "your brother -- is he forming a pack?"

haha. It's ok Tev doesn't really like Charon too much right now b/c his pride's been wounded. xD

“I don't really remember it,” He shrugged, despite that it bothered him nevertheless. Could he claim that it was truly the fact that they'd left the Bay that bothered him or the fact that Charon had went over Thistle's head to do it? Not that, truly, any of it pertained to Kjalarr. It had happened when they'd assumed he was dead, though it had certainly sounded as if Charon had been trying to place the blame of their small numbers at his feet. Even if things had gone different, he doubted his presence would have made a difference. What was one child in the run of things? Perhaps it was Kjalarr's inherited dislike of authority that caused him to be so weary of Charon, but the insults thrown his way definitely hadn't helped, either. 

It was not so easy for Kjalarr to forget them, or his behavior. It was not easy to brush it under the rug like it had never happened: because it had happened and even Floki had been there to witness it all. “Oh,” Jade Fern Grove had been on relatively good standing with the neighboring packs, from what he'd understood so he had a hard time trying to imagine what it would be like to compete for resources with another pack. 

“So, you lead Ankyra Sound? That's pretty cool. I didn't mean to intrude...I didn't think anyone lived here.” He hadn't smelled anything, but he supposed as it was presently, that didn't always mean a place was entirely deserted. It had been barren during his first visit here, at least. “No, the way I understand it is he decided he was going to step all over my mother's authority and just up and move the pack somewhere else. I think they merged with another pack in the area.” So, really, in Kjalarr's (potentially extremely cruel view of Charon currently) mind Charon didn't deserve the credit. He was just taking what Ragnar had built and moved it elsewhere.

ty for the thread, wrap up in your post? :)

caiaphas wondered if for a moment she revealed too much -- but a cursory glance at the pale wolf assuaged her fears. he was hardly more than a yearling -- a sapling -- it was near winter and he was alone. the sad truth of the world, caiaphas thought, was that the young were uniquely unsuited for it. she wouldn't be surprised to learn if he did not make it through the season.

he mentioned he hadn't come across other scents and caiaphas indulged him with a knowing smile -- as if his nose had deceived him.  his inquiry about her titleship remained unanswered. one of the aggravating things about her that he would come to learn is that she was incredibly slippery when questioned. "we live underground." the shard-colored witch supplied, pulling away from his company with a sly look to her ragged countenance. "and it is time i return there. aeternum vale, kjalarr."

<3

She offered him strange words: speaking that her and her wolves lived under the ground. Kjalarr's brow furrowed as he tried to picture how ...and more importantly why wolves would deign to live under ground. It was true that their species had dens — which were technically under ground — but despite his vision impairment he could not imagine spending any semblance of his time beneath the earth. Only to sleep, he supposed; and there was a certain attraction to the night sky that Tev couldn't hide. It was as striking to him as the sea. Surprisingly, not something he feared despite that it had nearly accomplished what the bear so long ago had not.

He studied her sly look for a moment, still attempting to puzzle out her words in a rapid-fire way only to watch her walk away and vanish from his line of sight. “Goodbye.” He offered lamely after her retreating form before he turned and with a shrug of broad shoulders set his destination to the Moonspear figuring he'd taken enough detours already.

caiaphas heard the puzzlement in the young boy's voice and as she turned from him the sly expression split into a wicked and indulgent grin. perhaps if the pale youth was still alive come spring, she would eek out his existence and come across him in the endless foothills. yet for now, winter was coming -- and she had many duties to commit before first snowfall.

with these thoughts mired in her head she slithered below the sound's surface, her mink-like frame adopted into obscured darkness.